


Helping Hands

by songohanfan1



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Big brother France, HRE is dead, Italy angst, Language, Multi, first hetalia fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7535617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songohanfan1/pseuds/songohanfan1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>France is telling Italy news about Holy Rome's death, and he has some help for moral support from his bros</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hands

Helping Hands

 

  It's cold. That's the first thing France notices when he takes the abhorred walk down to the place of his demise. And possibly his precious brother's as well. Behind him, as usual, are two beloved and famed trouble-makers, taking the same tense walk as him. Though for them, the consequences are much lighter, and don't bring about any sense of foreboding. 

   Though this is in no way a happy time for them either. They make their way through the cobblestoned streets overlooking the canals of Venice. France ponders over the water, ancient and running through the city as blood to the province. He wonders if that is really their function. 

   He could always just ask. 

   There are countless joyful street vendors, though they seem to be wrapping up for the day as it's evening and with the sun goes down any hope of seeing in the dark Venetian night. 

 A silence falls over the trio, though not uncomfortable, it is heavy for the normally light-hearted nations.  

The two following the blond share a look and, getting his friend's nod, the pale man decides to speak up.

"Oi! Angel Hair! Do you even know where we're going? Or have you been blindly strolling around all of Italy?" There's a pause, and the Frenchman doesn't show any sign of answering, so the third fellow answers for him. 

"Don't worry Prussia, Ita's house is right down the street, another block or so. Besides, there's a huge flag in their front yard, no way we'd miss it~." Spain's optimism and light attitude feel foreign with the heavy atmosphere exuding off the French nation in the front. But, for Prussia, it's a much-welcomed feeling. Something familiar in this strangely tense feeling they're experiencing.

 The silence falls over the group again, much to the unease of the passengers of the trip. They came along as, as France had said," backup"; more to help him breach the topic of discussion rather than actually reveal anything. 

Finally they come to a stop. Before them lies a two-story villa with a large Italian flag waving in the slight breeze of the salty air. 

 The building looks old, but not as ancient as it should have been, considering the occupants. 

France takes a deep stuttering breath, and for the first time in their trip, turns to acknowledge the two. He nods at both of them and slowly brings his hand up. 

A firm knock rings out in the deserted Mediterranean night. 

 Footsteps soon follow it, but they seem light and easy compared to the expected dragging footsteps of a nation who has just come out of a war. 

But, that's what Italy is known best for. His smile during times of trouble. His beauty during war and devastation. And his inner strength when he sacrifices his pride for the good of his nation. 

Francis only hopes he stays like that for as long as possible. Despite the telegram in his coat pocket.

The door suddenly opens and a high-pitched voice calls out for them to wait a moment.

The nations outside blink. Italy's voice is high for a male, but not that high.

Suddenly they're met with long brown hair with a flower on top and a hatefully suspicious grimace on Hungary's lovely face. 

"Oh, it's you three. Und just what are you doing here? Ita doesn't normally allow ruffians in his house. You might break it." She's visibly sizing then up, trying to find a cause for their presence through their demeanor. She finds nothing suspicious, though France is unusually sullen. That's certainly a cause for worry. 

Prussia perks up, finally a chance for some real conversation. And to re-establish their animosity, of course. 

"Oh? Und why are you here? Has the young master finally let you leave the house for a few hours? You'd better hurry back home or the pivot you've made in the floor from all the pacing around the kitchen you do might fix itself." She huffs and turns an angry crimson color. 

France intervenes, putting himself in front of Prussia.

"Excusez-moi Hungary, but this is a rather serious matter and I need to see Italy as soon as possible. It really is life or death." She blinks, France would usually remark about the blatant sexual tension between her and Gilbert. He really is acting very seriously. It's starting to worry her.

He steps closer and leans down to her ear.

" I'm doing what you asked. S'il vous plait, Hungary." Her eyebrows furrow in confusion until her eyes widen, apparently understanding. She gasps and nods, gesturing for them to come in. She really has waited for this too long. Not to mention Italy has as well.

"He's in his room. His new boss has really been putting him through a lot of work and since he just recently formed his country, he's trying his hardest to make it work," she smiles and laughs, "his tenacity probably won't last long though." A grin breaks out on all their faces, though fleeting, the break from the harsh mood is a relief.

They are lead down a hallway decorated with various paintings, though all seem to be from the same artist despite the obvious differences in scenery depicted. 

Most are of a bright sunny land, clearly a representation of Italy, but towards the end of the hall the mood of the paintings starts to darken. Though not harsh, the paintings were clearly made as if trying to copy the same happy feel as before, but not quite getting it. 

No one brings them up, though all understand the message the artist was conveying. 

Hungary stops just beneath a spiral staircase.

"Well, this is it. His room is the last on the left. He might be tired from staying up doing paperwork all last night, but I'm sure seeing you three will give him a nice change of pace." She steps up to France and her eyes bore into his.

"And France, be gentle with him." One last intimidating look is sent his way before she exits back the way they came. 

France slowly nods, though she can no longer see him.

"Well let's get this show on the road losers!" Prussia bolts up the stairs cackling as the startled blond curses and follows him up, desperately telling him to shut his wurst-hole.

They catch up to him just in time, at the end of the hall and right in front of the last door. 

France gulps then sighs, taking the doorknob and twisting it forcefully, taking his dilemma out on the poor knob.

Prussia's grin widens and he pushes France aside, calling out.

"Ita! We're here! Come bask in the concentrated awesomeness that is the mighty Prussia!" His arms are wide and inviting, even as he cackles like a banshee. 

There's a small gasp and suddenly his arms are full of a small, teenaged Italian. 

"Ve~ Gilberto, you're here! I didn't know you were coming, or else I would've made pasta."A slight frown settles on his face, though it's mostly just a childish pout. 

France looks deeply at the frown, trying to prepare himself for what might become Italy's permanent expression. 

Then lovely Amber eyes open and meet rich blue ones. A smile dazzles its way onto the young nation's face.

"And you brought Big Brother France with you! Yay~" The Frenchman suddenly has the cute boy on his chest, arms and legs wrapped around him, he has to return the hug just to make sure they don't fall over.

"Oui, it's about time I visited my petite Feli~, non? And look how big you've gotten! Someone better not be growing up when Big Brother isn't looking~." Italy giggles and nuzzles his chest more before letting go of the taller nation. 

He sees the third dark-haired man and rushes to hug him as well. 

A nice reunion for all of them.

Finally they've settled down, sitting on the rug in the center of the room. 

Italy looks at them all, happy but slightly confused.

"Ve~ so what brings you here?" Prussia smiles and decides to break the ice.

"Oh, you know, just walking around the neighborhood, decided to see mein favorite jungen." He rustles the boy's hair and smirks.

France decides to speak up.

"Oui, and though I do love to visit mon frere menor, I actually have something rather important to discuss with you Feli." Feliciano sighs.

"Business, eh? Okay, lay it on me Franceypants." France grins just slightly, amused by the tired expression already on the boy's face.

"Non, Italie, it's not quite business, just important news. You see," he pauses as he reaches inside his coat pocket and dishes out an envelope, " I have a letter for you."

He gently hands it to the now attentive teenager. 

"Ve? It's already open." He looks up at France.

"Oui, it was addressed to me, but I think you should see it too. Go on, read it." Italy nods and takes out the letter. 

All three men wait anxiously, staring at his face, searching it for heartbreak.

A sharp intake of air.

And there it is.

They know he's stopped reading because he closes his eyes, tears escaping from the corners. 

He speaks shakily.

"Is this a joke France? He can't really be dead, he's a nation."

"Not anymore, I'm afraid. He is gone Italie. Please, for your own sake, just....just leave him in the past." They see anger settle on his delicate features as he crumples the note in his hands. 

"Leave him? Just who do you think I am? That you think I could forget about him, leave him behind as you seem to have done?" He opens his eyes and the hurt and anguish look foreign and strange on his face, usually filled with joy and life.

France turns his head. He caused this and he knows it, but he can't face it right now because the thought that he tainted such a beautiful and loving face with hate and anger, its just too much for him to bear right now. 

Prussia feels the tense silence that has fallen after such an emotional and angry question. He sighs, wrapping his arms around the grieving man. 

Yes man. With the boyish love and light being replaced with hurt on his face, his true age shines through and they're forced to see him as the ageless and ancient country he is.

Gott, just seeing Italy's face like this makes him want to cringe and battle the whole world for his sake. He would. If that brought back Ita's previous love and happiness, Prussia would destroy the world a million times over.

As is, he can only take the shaking boy into a hug, pulling him to his lap. He rubs his back as he feels hot tears dampen his shoulders and trickle down his back. 

"Ita, please. He loved you happy and carefree, you know seeing you like this would have destroyed him." He knows because it's already killing him. 

He feels a slight nod come from the head on his shoulder and soon the tears stop falling. The boy straightens up and looks at Prussia's face. 

Okay, time for him to lighten the mood.

"Don't worry Ita, the Awesome Me will make it all better with kissies and huggies. So come get your first one!" He tackles the boy and starts tickling his sides, Spain joins in cooing at the boy and pretending to be a monster coming to eat him.

"The Awesome Prussia will slay the weirdo tomato beast!" And he and Italy gsng up on Spain, returning the favor.

This cute and heartwarming exchange brings a smile on France's lips even as he knows he's going to have to try much harder to get those smiles out of his cute little brother.

But he'll still try.

He joins in the fun once 'the beast' has been properly slain, saying it's time to bury him.

"Okay Ita~, go get all the pillows you x an find, we have to bury him before he revives~."

Yes he'll have to try harder to get those smiles, but with the helping hands he has, they'll manage.


End file.
